As the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end,’ and so we found ourselves on Tuesday morning, at the end of our great escape from the little people. ‘Do you miss them,’ the professor had asked the night before. Of course. The laughter. The hugs. The general funny-ness. Listening to the Gort reprimand his younger brother as though he were a thirtysomething….mother.
But the break from the unsavory elements of parenthood was undeniably….awesome. No one called to me from the bathroom to ‘wipe my buuuuutttt’. There were hardly any dishes to clean, and no sibling-arguments to mediate. Nobody refused to go to bed. And nobody woke me up during the night.
So before we headed back to Calgary; back to the ‘fullness’ of it all….we stopped for lunch in Canmore. At Crazyweed. We were the only diners in the place; having arrived promptly when the doors opened. While waiting for our food, we noticed the glass patio doors…..were iced over on the inside. It was cold.
The professor opted for a lamb burger, and I chose the ‘open-face steak sandwich’ special. With frites. And caesar salad. It’s not the kind of thing I’d normally order, but a review I’d read had said ‘try the specials’. And, frankly, I didn’t feel like looking at the menu and trying to choose the best possible food based on a grouping of words.
Really, it was liberating. Steak sandwich special? Sure, I’ll have that. Even though it also goes against my ordering philosophy to choose the always un-priced specials. You just don’t know what you’re getting into when you ask for the special. Which is how I ended up with a $20 steak sandwich.
The food was good (though I thought steak sandwich implied sliced meat on top of bread….not chunk of steak plopped on half a bun). My only issues with crazyweed were the brownish lettuce in my caesar salad (remarkable dressing, though). And the fact that they charge $10.50 for a bowl of soup. Really? Soup?
And the bizarro art on the walls. Apparently, if you call your restaurant crazyweed, you can put any random thing in a frame and call it art. Crazy!
I had lunch with Tiger Woods. (If you didn’t see him on the cover of Vanity Fair wearing a little hat, then this makes no sense).
And I drove home with Justin Bieber. (In the professor’s defense, this is an accidental, rather than a deliberate look.)